


My Immortal: Resurrection

by ginger_green



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crack, Fluff, Gen, One Shot, What Have I Done, Writing Exercise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-29
Updated: 2019-11-29
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:26:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21599134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ginger_green/pseuds/ginger_green
Summary: A fanwork based on everyone's favorite opus magnum. The origins of Ebony.
Kudos: 8





	My Immortal: Resurrection

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [My Immortal](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/538513) by Tara (?). 



It begins with darkness.

As the decade of punk-starboys and cocaine-infused lords of social protest rolled into history of England, it found its niche in mixing with its older brother, the grunged-up rock'n'roll of the good old days (which, in retrospective, turn out to be not that good at all).

Social justice tends to take way too long to kick in. Longer than it takes for a teenager to OD in a schoolhouse loo. The protest burned out and turned into charcoal. Cocaine became whiter and more expensive. Drums and bass went smoother with methadone. It numbed the pain of the tired generation, lulled them into oblivion.

Such was the music of London on that dark November night. It burst in pulses through the window of an old apartment set above The Pistols' nightclub, as suggested by the neon banner over the heavy metal door. The young couple which occupied these premises were the club's owners.

Jared yawned as he peeked outside, dragging in the sweet smoke, faint smell of alcohol and human filth. The air outside was filled with watery dust, and the wind threw it in his face in waves. It didn't even rain proper in here. What a shithole.

A little over thirty, spent and underweight, Jared often regretted shutting off his conservative family in favor of a downshifting lifestyle. He could've been an accountant, as mother wanted. He'd be bored to death... but fed and clothed.

His melancholy was interrupted by loud banging. Someone was standing on the porch, all wrapped in a dark-grey mantle. Jared took another drag and pressed the joint into the sill.

"Hilly?" he called. "Hilly, get the door!"

"Get it yourself asshole," was the woman's response from another room. Hilly was mad at him again. He couldn't remember what for.

The banging became louder.

"Get the _fucking_ door, Hilly!!"

The slapping footsteps indicated Hilly's reluctant compliance as she walked down the stairs and began to ramble with keys and chains guarding the back door. Jared couldn't hear what she said, but the following silence caught his attention. He struggled on his feet, put on his slippers and made his way down.

The stranger was gone. Hilly stood in the doorframe in her brown bathrobe, messy make-up tearing up under the elements. The dim light of street lanterns carved details out of darkness: Hilly's face, her large round eyes, and a wrapped object pressed tightly to her chest.

"Fuck' sakes, Jay..." she whispered, rocking the object lightly. "Take a look."

Jared stared at the object. It stared back with a pair of icy blue eyes. Be it MJ or just his love for poetry, but he thought of lakes. Two limpid lakes. Made of tears.

She was a year old, perhaps. Soft nimbus of fuzzy curles surrounded her tiny face, and the lighter freckles lit her cheeks up like the stars in a night sky. Jared poked her with a finger. The girl giggled, showing a glimpse of her first teeth. Two little fangs.

"We, uh, we should call 999," Jared offered after a long pause. His brain had a hard time handling so much at the same time.

Hilly didn't seem to care what he had to say. She rubbed the girl's head with just her fingertips, afraid and awed. In her cloudy eyes, something clear awoke. Something untouched by methadone, unmuted by the wailing of bass. A feeling.

"Look at her lil' peepers," she cooed, leaning in closer. "And that cute lil' nose! Cutest shit I ever seen... Who could throw you out? Who's your Mommy and Daddy, sweet thing?"

"Probably those assholes from better part of town."

"Poor kid..." Hilly took a minute to think. Jared wasn't sure she even knew what a child was, never mind how to care for it. "I'll go look in the kitchen. Maybe she's hungry."

Jared knew when not to object to Hilly's ideas, no matter how insane they were. She might have been small of frame, but she lacked fear or sense of pain. And that made her deadly.

"We should name her at least," he said meekly, following Hilly back upstairs. "Maybe... Ebony?"

"You daft?" She stopped and gave him a condescending look. "You gonna name a black kid fucking _Ebony? She's not even the right tone!_ "

"Go and think of a better one then."

The girl winced and burst into tears. Must have been scared by their argument. A strange sensation of cold crawled under Jared's skin. Like some sort of... charm.

Hilly rocked the baby until it calmed down. Her tough features melted into an unfamiliar candy-like sight, which reminded Jared of their wedding day and the honeymoon in Arizona.

"Raven. Raven Way."

Jared only shrugged and agreed to help looking for food. Hilly wasn't mad anymore. That was enough for him.

**Author's Note:**

> It's possible nobody's going to read this, after all My Immortal is an old meme. But I just want to get this out there. I unironically enjoyed the original; I consider it a monument of human will and the power of creation. I thought I could give this tiny tribute as thanks-oh sorry, fangz.  
> Not sure if it's worthy of continuation. If anyone's interested (or if I get another episode of itching hands), I might do that.


End file.
